


The You Out Of Half A Dozen

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AurorDraco, AurorHarry, AurorPartners, Clones, Dracobeingstupid, M/M, MutualPining, Stakeout, UST, aurorau, aurorfic, awkwardloveconfessions, doppelgangers, duplicationspell, enchantedwardrobe, fluffyendingthough, harrybeingreckless, imnotevenjoking, magicalcloset, openfields
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Whilst unraveling a Potions smuggling ring, Harry and Draco set out to follow their newest lead and see where it might take them. Magical wardrobes in the middle of sunny fields and ominous Latin inscriptions as well as emotions running high make for one hell of a day...//Completed//Word count: 5.3k
Relationships: Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 90





	The You Out Of Half A Dozen

**Author's Note:**

> always wanted to sit down and write an auror au where they work on a case, and when this idea came to me i *couldnt* let it go! so here it is! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :3!

The sun beat down on them as they trekked across an empty field in the middle of fuck nowhere. The green blades of grass were the only thing visible for _miles_ , and Harry was seriously starting to dislike the color green. There wasn't a single tree anywhere close, just an open, empty field with the clear blue sky draping across it. That, and a single wardrobe. In the smack middle of it, one thick, full wood, intricately carved wardrobe loomed. It was such an odd thing to be sitting out in some random bloody field. It was also _very_ suspicious how heavily this one field was warded. Harry swallowed a groan as he and Draco made their way across to the wardrobe.

The two of them have been tracking an illegal french potion ring for a while now, and this was reported to be a possible drop spot. Really, if it turned out to be true, Harry would be wholly impressed, because no sane Auror would go suspecting random fields for nefarious illegal potion exchanges. No sane Auror _except_ Draco Malfoy. Because of _course_ he'd be the one to clue in to the fact that in the previous exchange they'd tracked down, something that vaguely translated to _'grass open space'_ from French would mean a large, open field. There was a forest lining the edges of it, spreading down the hill thickly. What had led Draco to believe it was _this particular_ field in question, Harry didn't really know, but he'd learned long ago to trust Draco's instincts with these things. He was glad he did, as a wardrobe in a warded field was working well in favor of his theory. They'd barely exchanged a couple of words since Robards had given them permission to follow the lead Draco sniffed out, much like they barely spoke to each other in general. Not for lack of trying on Harry's part, but for the infuriating cold distance Draco was hellbent on wading between them. At first, Harry could understand it could have a lot to do with their unsavory history, but it's been three bloody _years,_ and Harry _knew_ they'd both put that behind them. What he didn't know, was _why_ Draco never talked to him if it wasn't related to a case, _why_ he maintained such a terse relationship. Harry had tried countless times to get him to warm up, mellow out a little bit, maybe go out for drinks, but Draco always gave him a long-suffering look, as if he was withstanding the pain of his lifetime, and refused.

And it really bloody bothered Harry, because he _really_ wanted to date him pretty darn desperately.

Harry was starting to just plain give up and try to look for someone else to catch his fancy, though he was under no delusions that there'd ever be such a person. Coming to stand in front the wardrobe, Harry inspected it. It looked ordinary enough, but therein lay the danger. He cast a couple of spells over it, catching no charms or curses layering the outside of it. He reached out and gripped the handle, yanking the door open, wand at the ready. He didn't exactly expect something dangerous to come growling at them, but one could never be too sure. Boggarts had an affinity to hide in for closets and wardrobes after all. Much to his relief, it was empty, save for a Latin phrase carved deep into the back.

Draco stepped up behind Harry, leaning over his shoulder to peer in at the writing.

_Plus Quam Unum, Unum Est Veritae Eligere, Or Perde Omnia._

Harry suppressed a shudder at the proximity, before muddling through his very limited knowledge of Latin to attempt a rough translation.

_More than one, one truth to choose or everything lose._

Well, that wasn't ominous _at all._

"What do you suppose this does then?" Draco broke the silence, still standing too close to Harry. His voice didn't betray a flicker of emotion, and Harry fought back a sigh. He didn't know why he subjected himself to this daily. Loving someone who didn't seem to give a flip whether Harry was alive or dead.

"I don't know. More than one of _what_?" He mused aloud, forcing himself to step away from Draco's body and walk the perimeter of the furniture peace, searching it for any more odd inscriptions or markings. 

"I'm going in to inspect the walls further." Draco announced and before Harry could snarl at him about how _stupid_ that was, he'd already clambered in, a loud bang alerting Harry to the fact the doors had snapped shut behind him. 

Harry rushed to the front, grabbing the knobs and pulling with all his might, but they didn't budge.

"Malfoy?! Malfoy! _Draco!"_ He banged on the door, a frantic lump rising in his throat. He had no _clue_ what the inside of the bloody thing might have been charmed with, or what would happen to Draco, it sent a cold panic shrilling through Harry. He kept tugging on the handles, until finally, the doors swung open with such might they sent Harry sprawling backwards, straight onto his arse. 

He grunted as he crashed down on the hard earth, and blinked once. He stared at the closet, heart stopping in his chest.

Six Draco Malfoys stumbled out.

_Six._

"What the actual bloody fuck--" He managed to utter, before standing and swallowing at the sight. Six. Draco. Malfoys. He ran over the phrase in his mind once again. _More than one_. The wardrobe duplicated whatever was put inside it then? It seemed to be the only plausible explanation for the fact there were now six bloody Dracos ambling around the field. _One is truth_. Obviously only one of them could be the real Draco, the problem of it was, _which one?_ _Choose the truth or lose everything._ That part especially concerned Harry. Lose _what?_ He'd be damned before he risked Draco's head on anything. He sighed and clapped his hands, drawing the Dracos attention to him.

"Right. Nothing to it then. I need the _real_ Draco Malfoy." Harry informed them, feeling quite stupid. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"It's me Potter, _honestly._ " One of them stepped up to him, eyeing him with the same haughty glint the _real_ Draco did. Harry forced himself to focus:

"Prove it. If you're the real Draco, what would you do to me right now?" He was expecting an answer such as _insult you_ or perhaps _slap you_ , or something typical Draco might have said. Granted, he only ever spoke those things when Harry messed up nowadays, but Harry figured this could be considered a major cock up.

"Kiss you." The Draco informed him flatly. Harry stopped. He stared, and blinked. A whoosh of air whizzed by his ears rapidly, but he shook his head:

" _Definitely_ not the real one then." He muttered, somewhat bitterly, before approaching another Draco. They were all dressed the same, all looked the same, sounded the same, Harry felt a headache starting.

"Malfoy? I have no idea how to pick out the real you, so please don't make this difficult on me." He begged. This Draco tilted his head to the side:

"I don't want to make anything difficult on you Potter." 

The thing with doppelgangers, was that they _knew_ the real one's desires and wishes and cravings, but they couldn't _feel_ it. A doppelganger would know to tell you they lusted after someone for example, but not really feel it, not put any passion behind the words. They didn't feel any need to lie or fake something, they were the most barebones a person could be. However, Harry also knew there were _many_ different _types_ of Duplication spells, and he had no idea which one was used on the Wardrobe. There were ones which made the doppelgangers a complete opposite in personality, that made them capable of lying etc. Which was why he wasn't inclined to believe the sweet things these Dracos were telling him. He _wished_ they were true, but he knew they'd never be so he focused back to the task at hand.

"I'm the real one Potter!" Another popped into Harry's field of vision and glared down at him. " _Honestly_ , don't be _thick_ , of _course_ it's me." Now that was sounding more like it.

Harry dug his heels into the soil and heaved a breath. He could do this. He tried to think about this logically, perhaps assess the situation like how Hermione might. He figured that there were a couple of things he could try. He pulled his wand and took a deep breath:

"Accio Draco." 

He hoped the spell might not catch the fakes, but he was proven sorely wrong when six bodies crashed into him, toppling him over into the field, landing in a large pile of squirming limbs.

"What the _hell_ _Potter?"_ A couple hissed unanimously, and really, either of them could be the real Draco. He shoved them off and scrambled up again. 

"Sorry, sorry. I want the _real_ one is all." Harry mumbled under his breath and was hit with a wave of _'It's me'_ from six people. Doppelgangers. Whatever. 

Alright, that didn't work. Something else then. Harry eyed them all, trying to study their expressions for _something_. All that greeted him were emotionless expressions. That didn't help him _at all_ , since _his_ Draco was just as much a cold statue outwardly as the clones were inwardly. The only times Harry had ever really seen emotion show on his face was..well..

"I'm really sorry about this." The raven mumbled, and clocked the nearest one square on the nose. _Anger._ That seemed to work every time. 

"You _arse!"_ The assaulted Draco hissed, but his words fell flat, though he swung a fist around to catch Harry in the jaw. He stumbled to the side, before regaining balance and rubbing at his aching jaw. Harry was pleased to find it wasn't broken or dislocated. He resigned himself to a lot of _bruising_ , and moved on to the next one, landing a fist to his gut. He received an elbow to his ribs for his efforts and cried out. He tried to catch his breath and glanced at all the Draco's. Even the ones who punched him looked sorry for it, crowding around him, asking if he were okay. _Goddammit!_ This wasn't working either. While getting Draco enraged worked in cracking his composure, he'd drain of it equally as quickly and revert back to a half arsed apology and an even less convincing inquiry about Harry's wellbeing, then back to the cold, distant prat he was. The doppelgangers didn't really feel the anger, but they reacted on instinct it seemed, an instinct to defend themselves. 

Harry winced against his bruised ribs as he took a deep breath and composed himself once more. The six Dracos were staring at him intently, waiting for him to choose seemingly. The bitch of doppelgangers was that they drained the life force of the real one, and if left long enough, could kill the real one. 

Harry paced a spot, scowling while he attempted to figure out something else to try. Perhaps something simple would be the best thing to try? Talking to them might get him somewhere, especially if he asked the right questions. Ask something provoking, perhaps it would coax out a reaction from the real Draco. At this point, it was as good a plan as any really, and Harry stopped and turned to them.

"Alright!" He spoke loudly, bringing their attention to him. "I'm going to ask you lot some questions now, try to weed out the real one, yea?" 

They rolled their eyes in tandem. Harry massaged his temples.

"Let's start then. How did we meet?" He didn't know what compelled him to ask about that, but he figured it was the start of a long, difficult, utterly _moronic_ rivalry, and therefore, important.

"We met on the train in our first year. You refused to shake my hand, and I hated you for years for it." A Draco replied, voice emotionless. Harry studied them all carefully. He searched their eyes for the slightest flickered, a twitch to their mouth, _something._ One of them appeared affected, if the slight uptick of his lips was anything to go by. _Bingo!_ Harry had a direction now. He nodded and asked the next question:

"What happened in the bathroom in our sixth year?" Harry's soul ached having uttered those words and he took a deep breath to calm himself, his frown deep. Draco had never let him apologize for it, waving him off with a sneer whenever Harry had tried. "I'm really sorry about that though, I really didn't know.." Harry seized his chance while he still could.

"I was crying and you came in, found me. I tried to Crucio you, you nearly killed me." Another Draco replied to the question. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and poured himself into paying attention. The same Draco as before seemed to grimace, and Harry was almost completely certain he had the right one. He wasn't going to rush it though:

"What did I tell you when we first became partners?" He asked next, biting his lip at the fond memory.

"You told me that you'll trust me with your life if I swear to never call you Scarhead again." A third Draco replied, not a twitch of feeling to it. Harry narrowed in on his main suspect and noticed crinkles by the corners of his eyes, signalling at something resembling a smile. 

"And I do. Trust you with my life, that is." Harry declared, watching something akin to dumbstruck wonder dawn in the slate gray eyes. He'd meant it, though never had the chance to say it before, seeing as Draco was so bloody dead set on not ever talking to him. Just as he was about to go to the real Draco, by now certain he'd found the correct one, another desperate question crawled up his throat:

"Why are you always so distant and cold with me, even now?" It came out a tremble, barely more than a whisper. Harry waited, anticipation rising. His eyes bore into Draco's, heart thudding loudly in his chest. Draco dropped his eyes to the grass just as a doppelganger answered:

"Because I'm in love with you, madly. Because I want you to the brink of madness, but I know you'd never want me like that. I need the distance to not lose my mind." It was spoken in the flattest, driest tone imaginable, with no inflection to it whatsoever. His facial expression didn't stutter, but Harry felt as if a herd of wild Erumpets trampled over him. His eyes roamed over every Draco, finding only one looking shuttered and completely _terrified_. Pale, wide eyed, gaping at Harry as if Harry might attack him. 

Surely all of that wasn't true. It couldn't be. Was there a Duplication spell that tailored the clones to fancy themselves in love? Harry desperately wished he could remember, desperately wished he could think at all, but he couldn't. Everything buzzed to a halt, while something deep within him cracked and unfurled. He had long ago denied himself hope, but this..this felt too good to be true. Harry didn't think he would be able to bear it. Daring to hope, only to be informed it was nothing more than the wonky spell afterwards. He knew he'd never recover. Not from that. So he swallowed thickly, and pushed his stupid rising affections away:

"Right, that's _it!"_ His heartache gave way to irritation at this entire situation. _"Give me my Malfoy back!"_ He snapped at the half a dozen Dracos and stalked up to the one he believed to be the real one. "It's you isn't it?" He gripped his forearm tightly and shook him, more out of helpless frustration than any real anger. 

"I—Yes, I'm the real one. I'm _really_ the real one." Draco nodded frantically, still looking wrong footed and put out. Harry glared at him, and then clenched his jaw against the throbbing of his heart. He hated himself so much for falling too far, and he hated Draco for entering that bloody closet in the first place, dealing Harry a caustic, burning wound that wouldn't heal. Harry didn't know what to do with himself at this point, so he did the only thing that seemed to be on his mind. He slapped Draco. Hard. The blonde's head whipped around to the opposite side as Harry's palm connected to his cheek.

"A fucking clone had to tell me—And it's probably not even _true_ —Feels like I've lost a lifetime just desperately pining after you—Kept your bloody distance, had me convinced you'd never—and you _don't,_ and I _know_ you don't but then this fucking doppelganger went and fucking said _that_ — how the _fuck_ am I supposed to recover from it now?!" Harry seethed, palm stinging almost as much as his entire being did. He felt his eyes burning and angrily wiped at them, turning away from Draco and stalking away, taking in a deep shuddering breath. 

The silence of the field was welcome to Harry's addled brain. He was suddenly very grateful it was all so open, it helped him breathe. For a few moments, he forced himself into growing aware of his own breathing. In, out, in, out, slow and steady. 

"Please don't hate me again." 

A voice cut through the thin veil of calm Harry had managed to shroud himself with. Draco sounded the most earnest Harry had _ever_ heard him, and he couldn't help but huff a mirthless, disbelieving laugh at that. 

_"Hate you?!"_ Harry whipped around, jaw slack as his voice rose. "I couldn't bloody hate you if I _wanted_ to, and sometimes I _do_ want to hate you again. Better _that_ , than this..this.." The incredulity in his tone was clear as crystal, though Harry couldn't finish his sentence, nor find the right word for it. Draco's face changed three different colors in the silence that ensued, ranging from sickly yellow, to an even sicker green, back to the deathly pale of his normal skintone. Harry noticed his hands were trembling. He felt himself trembling too. "I could _never_ hate you." He shook his head, dropping his eyes away, feeling ill. The rest of the doppelgangers were shuffling away back into the wardrobe, looking discomfited Harry had picked the real one. 

The snap of the doors swinging shut behind them carved through the thick emptiness dividing them, noise giving Harry something else to think about.

"I believe they used this wardrobe to duplicate the potions in order to gain larger quantities quicker." He cleared his throat and spoke, shuttering everything away under the Auror training. "Following their patterns we can safely assume they'll be making a sale tonight. If my theory is true, they'll come here to clone the potions before proceeding to the buyer." 

He felt Draco come and stand next to him, but didn't let anything break his focus. "O-ok, so, a stakeout then?" The blonde asked, stumbling over his words for the barest of moments before shielding it away. 

"Yes. We'll set up a Disillusionment as well as a few wards because there is nowhere to hide out here. It's the best we can do." Harry started walking backwards, keeping his eyes firmly on the wardrobe. Once he'd made it maybe a few dozen feet he stopped and cast a perimeter around himself, charming a disillusionment bubble in the space. He saw Draco making his way over too, though his steps were stilted. He'd mostly managed to compose himself back to his usual self, but his eyes were pulsing with emotions not even he could conceal. Harry didn't let himself ponder as they sat down on the ground, enveloped by the spell, hidden from prying eyes, and waited. 

The sun was just about starting to dip lower on the blue horizon, though it would be an hour or two yet before it started to set.

~

The silence that reigned between them drew long and charged but neither knew how to break it. Harry stewed in his own aches, doing his best to ignore Draco curled up next to him, giving him wary glances when he thought Harry wouldn't notice. As if Harry would ever _not_ notice Draco's eyes on him. The blonde squirmed constantly, adjusting the way he sat, tapping his foot or drumming his fingers on his knee, completely restless and at odds with himself. Harry was irked by all of this to no end, but he let Draco be, figuring he needed something to keep himself busy. Harry kept his eyes locked on the wardrobe, the field in general, the surrounding woods. It'd been about an hour, it was getting darker now.

Just as he was about to call it off as a pointless venture, something stirred in the brush. Two figures clad in darkness ambled out of the woods, making careful venture into the field, towards the wardrobe. Harry tapped Draco's shoulder once to get his attention, and pointed them out. Making it out into the heart of the field, they were stark and clear against the slowly disappearing sun. One of them fiddled with the wardrobe, while the other slowly circled it, keeping watch. 

"I'll take the one watching, you take the one at the Wardrobe." Harry leaned in to whisper to Draco, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. Draco turned to face him, the distance between them counting in inches, and he seemed just as off-put as Harry was. His breathing dipped shallow, throat working, though he did not say anything. Harry knew they were wasting time, but he wanted to hear it, what Draco might tell him. The air slowly shifted, and Draco seemed to grow more frantic to say his peace, leg bouncing more insistently. Harry spoke into the small space between them:

"I know." It was a lie, of course, but Harry hoped that perhaps it would mollify Draco, and they could talk after. "I'm sorry too." He didn't know what compelled him to utter the last part, but he did anyways, and Draco seemed placated for the time being. He nodded, and they moved away, settling into a crouch they could lunge from. 

Mentally counting down from three, Harry leaped, casting a Stunner to the one keeping Watch while Draco hurled a Body Bind on the one fiddling with the Wardrobe. Kneeling next to the guy he'd stunned, Harry couldn't help but feel unnerved. It had been _too_ easy. They didn't even put in any fight at all. The man leered at him, and Harry was certain he'd missed something at once. His eyes snapped up to rake over the space all around them, now shrouded with the darkness of night, falling into the treeline immediately. Before he could put a name to the cold wave of panic that crashed over him, seven more wizards came hurling out into the field. 

It was an ambush.

_Fuck!_

Harry didn't have much time to consider when he was thrown headfirst into the fray. He and Draco dove into battle, though their chances were slim against seven opponents. It wasn't twenty minutes later that four of them had Draco surrounded, and Harry grit his teeth as his mind kicked into overdrive about how to quickly end this. He was winded, and bleeding from several cuts and injuries, but Draco was slowly loosing gusto as the four men advanced and Harry had to do _something_. He couldn't let them get to Draco.

His eyes landed on the wardrobe, gaping open from when that first guy had been fiddling with it. 

An idea struck him, though it bordered on suicidal.

There was no time to second guess anything though. 

Harry grit his teeth and rushed Draco, barreling him head over arse clean into the Wardrobe before he could blink. 

"I could _never_ hate you." Harry repeated to him quickly, feeling the need to make sure he remembered that if Harry's plan went awry. He sent a Colloportus at the Wardrobe door, and threw up a nonconductive ward around it. 

A Stinging hex caught him in the thigh and Harry cried out, crumpling to one knee. He faintly registered the maniacal cackling and Draco's frantic calls for him from within the Wardrobe, before he jammed his wand deep into the soft ground and yelled the incantation:

_"Fulmine Excusso Diem!"_

As soon as he'd cast, a violently, vehemently strong surge of electricity exploded through the earth, electrocuting the seven wizards mercilessly, but seizing Harry as well. He barely had time to cry out before he collapsed to the electrified earth, convulsing and twitching with the zaps travelling through his body, before everything went _black._

_~_

The moment Draco heard what spell Harry had cast, his heart dropped to his boots. He was safe from the electric shock inside the bloody Wardrobe but Harry was out there—He heard him cry out and Draco almost lost his lunch. He whirled around frantically within the small space. It didn't seem like it would clone him again. It made sense, that. Duplication spells were made with the restriction of cloning one thing only once, so they wouldn't be abused. Draco banged at the doors again, fumbling three times with afucking _Alohomora_ before he'd managed it. The doors flew open and Draco was careful not to step out onto the ground. He was horrified to see Harry crumpled in a heap, twitching while he was still seized by electric shocks. The seven wizards that'd ambushed them were down for the count, but Draco couldn't have given less of a twit about them. He itched to run to Harry and see if he was still _breathing_ , but he knew it wasn't safe to step out. Cursing everything he could think of, he leaned back against the Wardrobe and slid down. He needed to think of something to get the two of them out of there.

The spell Harry had used wasn't a long lasting spell, it should wear down in about an hour maximum but Draco doubted he could remain sane for that long without being sure Harry was alive. With a pitiful groan, his leg started bouncing. This had been a motherfucker of a day. He didn't dare delve into what happened with the clones earlier, and what they'd told Harry. Listening to his own deepest desires and wishes spoken aloud without so much as a flinch was almost as much of a bitch as was Harry's wrecked face when his last question was answered. He looked every bit as shattered as Draco had felt then. Shaking his head, he swallowed the lump in his throat, bringing himself into the here and now. He mindlessly bound and apprehended those bastards from where he sat in the closet, carefully avoiding looking at Harry. Unmoving Harry. Draco tried to cast a Patronus to send a message for back-up, but it failed him. He employed every memory he could think of, digging through himself in hopes of finding something happy enough to conjure one.

_'And I do. Trust you with my life, that is.'_

With a rush of magic, his tortoise materialized, blinking up at him slowly. Draco exhaled and murmured to it:

"Get Granger and Weasley. A team of Healers and backup to here. There's..an Auror down. The smugglers are taken care of. Let them know to tread with care, the field's electrified."

The tortoise dipped his head in what resembled a nod, and whirled away into a silver mist to carry the message through. 

Draco prayed they'd get here soon.

~

"Malfoy, what the _hell_ happened here?!" Granger hissed when she finally managed to decharge the field. Draco was wrong in his assessment, since Harry seemed to have cast the spell much stronger, much more potent than usual. Because _of course_ he did. It would have taken _days_ for it to wear out naturally instead of the hour it was _supposed_ to take. He took a deep breath, telling her everything. People were bustling through the field while he talked, but neither her nor him cared much for that. She listened with a tight expression while Draco explained how Harry had had to choose the real Draco out of the doppelgangers and then how they'd been ambushed, and how Harry, the bloody fool, electrocuted everyone _including_ himself. She sighed deeply when he was done.

"He'd do anything for you." She muttered angrily under her breath, almost growling the words. Draco assumed he wasn't supposed to hear it, but he did, though he didn't know what to make of it. 

"Will he be okay?" _Oh please, please just tell me he'll be fine._

She turned her eyes to the stretcher Harry was lifted on.

"His arm is mangled. Severely burned. He pulled a few muscles from convulsing, but he's alive."

Draco felt like crying for the enth time that day, but held himself together. _He's alive._

"Right." He nodded and she gave him one final, long look, before heading away to help elsewhere.

"Draco, m'boy, you did good." Robards clasped him on the shoulder, and Draco nearly toppled over from the force of it. "You caught them." The man seemed pleased, but Draco couldn't share in his joy. He shrugged, eyes still glued to Harry, who was slowly being carried away out of the wards reach so they can safely Apparate him to Mungo's. Robards followed his gaze, and squeezed his shoulder imperceptibly: "He'll be fine, he always is, you'll see. For now though, I want you to go home and take tomorrow off. You earned it." 

Draco just nodded mutely, happy to be dismissed somewhere in the back of his mind and headed out, happy to finally be getting off the fucking field. He'd been bandaged up when help first arrived, and felt steady enough to apparate home. 

~

The next day Draco had spent in hopeless moping around his flat. He'd fallen into this ridiculous pattern of resolving to go see Harry, but then talking himself out of it. It was a cruel loop that wouldn't end. He'd meticulously gone through every moment of yesterday, trying to pinpoint whether Harry was mad or happy or something else entirely, but it was all a mixed, jumbled mess that made little to no sense, which wreathed hell on his nerves. Eventually, he settled for getting blackout drunk on his couch, drowning his woes in whiskey. That plan had been soiled however, when an insistent rap came from his front door. Draco scowled and pushed his tumbler away, ready to snarl whoever came away, until he'd opened the door and found Harry standing there. 

_Oh fuck._ Draco wasn't _nearly_ drunk enough for this.

Harry's wand arm up to his elbow was bandaged up, and he looked mussed but determined. "Can I come in?" He politely inquired, and Draco moved aside mutely. After the door shut behind him, neither seemed to know what to do with themselves.

Draco fidgeted by his door, feeling wrong footed in his own damn flat, and Harry idly looked around, though there was a flutter in his lips that indicated he'd come here for a reason. 

Finally, after a painful minute and forty six seconds (Yes, Draco counted), Harry whirled around to face him and approached slowly but sternly. 

"You _wanker."_ The raven informed him once he'd come to stand right in front of Draco. Before Draco could even form a thought to that, Harry had seized him and kissed him with an angry, desperate need that set Draco's blood boiling at once. He whimpered into Harry's mouth, biting at it as their tongues collided into one, hands growing more frenzied on each other by the second. 

Suddenly though, Harry winced and pulled away, cradling his bandaged arm to his chest.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked right away, fighting to clear his head. 

"Never been better." Harry grinned tiredly at him, pulling him in for another kiss, a much slower, gentler one. "Better not be a bloody doppelganger that'll tell me something important next time." He chided between soft kisses, and Draco's heart _sung:_

_"Only your Malfoy from now on."_

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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